Mysteries of the Runes
by Kennilworthy Thisp
Summary: When Harry Potter arrives at The Burrow in the summer before his third year he is still haunted by the events in the Chamber of Secrets. During the long stretches of time when Ron is forced to complete his dreaded Summer Homework, Harry befriends Bill Weasley, and in turn Bill teaches him all about Ancient Runes. A Mentor!Bill fic, slightly AU, gen with perhaps a dash of pre-H/G.


**Mysteries of the Runes**

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own Harry Potter. Somewhat inspired by _C'est La Vie_ by Cywscross and _Harry Potter and the Cursed Summer_ by Mountain907.

**Synopsis:**

When Harry Potter arrives at The Burrow in the summer before his third year he is still haunted by the events in the Chamber of Secrets. During the long stretches of time when Ron is forced to complete his dreaded Summer Homework, Harry befriends Bill Weasley, and in turn Bill teaches him all about Ancient Runes. A Mentor!Bill fic, slightly AU, gen with perhaps a dash of pre-H/G.

**THE FACTS WERE THESE:**

i. Bill is 23 (24 in November)

ii. Harry doesn't:

ii a. Blow up Marge,

ii b. flee Privet Drive,

ii c. Ends up going to The Burrow once the Weasleys return from Egypt.

iii. The Weasleys come back for the last two weeks of August,

iii a. Bill accompanies them home, to attend review meetings at Gringotts at the end of his tenure as an Apprentice Cursebreaker.

iv. Hermione is on holiday with her parents

**A/N.** This is slightly AU, in that it presupposes that Harry didn't blow up his Aunt Marge, therefore he doesn't flee Privet Drive. Also, the Weasleys return to Britain from Egypt for the last two weeks of August, so Harry visits The Burrow for the last two weeks of the summer holidays. It was inspired in part by C'est La Vie by Cywscross and Harry Potter and the Cursed Summer by Mountain907 – both fics that deal with runes in an interesting way.

**Warnings** There is, later, some smoking of a pipe. Should I be warning about this? I don't know. Smoking is bad for you!

CHAPTER ONE – MEETING BILL

Harry Potter, newly turned thirteen-year-old Wizard and Hogwarts student, woke up to the sound of Ron Weasley snoring. It would have been annoying to most people, given the sheer volume, but it was so different to the stifling quiet that Harry had experienced for most of his life that he found it comforting. Sleeping to the drone of Ron's snoring meant Hogwarts, which meant Home. Even though he knew he was at The Burrow, and had the always strange task of getting used to a bed more comfortable than the decrepit mattress of Privet Drive he found the sound his best friend made whilst sleeping calmed him somewhat.

Ron asleep was much easier to live with when he was awake or eating, both being times when conversation was limited. Their friendship had been strained by the events at the end of the year. Ron was left equal parts relieved and shamed – relieved that Ginny was safe but ashamed that he had been unable to face the chamber with his friend. In contrast Harry felt so much older now, and wasn't able to find the same simple enjoyment in Wizard's Chess, Exploding Snap or Gobstones that he had before. All they had in common now was Quidditch, especially as Harry had defied convention and had almost finished his summer homework, when Ron was still steadfastly avoiding his. Hopefully things would be better once they got back to Hogwarts.

Harry reached out with his eyes still closed and picked up his glasses, before putting them on and sitting up, shifting his body so that his feet were on the thin rug that was all that was between his feet and the bare floorboards. He didn't sleep much anymore. Not since the events at the end of his last year, where in the dank dark of the Chamber of Secrets he had stood against the terror of the basilisk and the spectre that controlled it. He hadn't slept more than four or five hours a night since.

The sun was just rising, filling the highest bedroom at The Burrow with soft golden light, so Harry went to his trunk to fetch the last of his summer homework, a quill and parchment, and a bottle of ink. Putting them on top of the duvet he went back to grab his Charms textbook, _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three_. Sitting back atop of his bed, he gathered everything on his lap and opened the book, ready to start researching Cheering Charms.

Some time later Ron began to make less noise snoring and more noise rolling around as he moved towards wakefulness, roused no doubt by the smell of breakfast wafting through the window from the kitchen below. Harry had finished the thirty-two inches required for his Charms essay and was instead reading _The Three Musketeers_ by Alexandre Dumas. He'd picked it up in one of the charity shops in Little Whinging before he'd escaped the Dursleys.

It was just approaching half seven now, so Harry headed downstairs to shower, hoping to beat the morning rush. What with both of Ron's parents, Bill, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry himself and just one toilet the queue to shower in the morning could get ridiculous. From the landing on the first floor he could hear the clanking of the pots and pans washing themselves in the kitchen, and he could hear the soft voice of Mrs. Weasley humming quietly to herself as she bustled about.

He paused in the doorway, taking in the white tile of the toilet and suppressed a shudder. Since he'd left Hogwarts, bathrooms filled him with a sense of foreboding – especially toilets like at the Weasley's. It was floor to ceiling white tile, and it was the gleaming white in front of him, coupled with the echo caused by the absence of soft furnishings led him back to the girl's toilet on the second floor, which in turn led his imagination down the long pipe to the Chamber of Secrets. It wasn't as bad as his nightmares but the unsettled feeling was enough to make him hurry through his morning shower. After he'd cleaned his teeth he opened the toilet door to be greeted by the pale, wan face of Ginny.

'Oh!' he squeaked, surprised. 'Morning, Ginny.' He moved from the doorway and up the first few stairs, to clear the doorway.

'Morning,' she replied in a quiet tone. Harry frowned; this wasn't normal Ginny behaviour, from what he knew of her. It wasn't like he knew much of what Ginny was really like, but he'd heard stories of her from Fred, George and Ron and remembered what she was like when he stayed the summer before last. Could she be affected by the Chamber of Secrets as much as he was? After a moment, Harry felt like kicking himself – of course she was! Though Ginny had been unconscious for the fight with the basilisk, she had spent the majority of the past year possessed by the teenaged presence of Tom Riddle – in most ways a much worse experience than what Harry had survived.

For him, it had been thirty minutes of terrified action, where he was absolutely sure he was going to die, Ginny along with him. Ginny had had to face a long year of her sanity being chipped away, of her feelings toyed with, forced to do terrible things and being able to do nothing but stand silent witness.

He watched the door close, torn. Harry wanted to help Ginny, if he could, but didn't know how much help he would be. Maybe time and the presence of her family would help.

After stowing his towel and pyjamas upstairs, he trotted downstairs for breakfast. He thought he'd eat and then maybe go for a walk to see if it would be possible to go for a run in the mornings. The events in the chamber had shown him that he was chronically unfit; he'd been wheezing for breath after just a few minutes of trying to evade the Basilisk. Quidditch was good exercise but sitting on your broom could never be described as a proper workout. It was, he thought, probably been why he'd been bitten when he killed the monster. He'd been so tired that he couldn't aim the sword properly between the long fangs that filled the monster's mouth.

**{}**

'Morning, Mrs. Weasley!' greeted Harry as he entered the kitchen.

'Oh!' said Mrs. Weasley, turning around as she heard him enter. 'You're up early. The others won't be up for hours yet! Sit yourself down, Harry dear, and I'll fetch you some breakfast – you look far too thin!' she bustled away from the table towards the kitchen proper and started pointing her wand at various pots and pans and cupboards, muttering all the while about "those terrible Muggles". 'What can I get you, dear?'

'Oh not too much,' Harry was quick to interrupt, 'I was thinking just a sandwich, if it's not too much trouble. I wanted to take a walk before eating properly, if that's ok?'

'Oh, that'll be nice. You won't have seen much more than the orchard when you were here before, if I know my Ron. Here you are, Harry dear.'

In true Mrs. Weasley style, she floated over a plate with four slices of bread on it, along with a little pot of butter and another plate loaded with sausages, bacon and slices of cheese. Harry looked agog at all the food floating towards him, sure that if he ate all that plus a "proper breakfast" later he'd explode. Unfortunately he knew from past experience that protesting was pointless; he wasn't leaving the table 'til he'd eaten it all. He started to assemble his sandwiches: bacon on the bottom, sausages sliced in half and layered and cheese on top. As he munched his way through he tuned back in to Mrs. Weasley's babble.

'-And goodness knows when Fred and George will be down. Those boys, so smart, I've always said – but will they apply themselves? Of course not! "Pranking's the future, mum!" and, "We want to open a shop, mum!" Goodness knows what I'll do if they don't get a decent number of O. each. At least Percy is doing well – he's a shoe in for Head Boy, if there's any justice in this world, he studies so hard – and Bill, of course, who's home for a few weeks for meetings at Gringotts. It is nice to have him home. He should be home in a few hours, he said, he had to go in to schedule his Apprenticeship Review. Why the Goblins won't accept an owl is beyond me. Imagine that, though, a Journeyman Cursebreaker in the family at twenty-three!'

Harry's interest was piqued; Bill being at The Burrow was news to Him. He'd not seen him when he'd arrived the night before, as Mr. Weasley had only been available to pick him up from the Privet Drive in the evening. By the time they'd flooed to The Burrow it'd been late, and he'd only been downstairs long enough for Mrs. Weasley to feed him some soup before heading to bed. He knew Bill was a Cursebreaker for Gringotts, and from what Mrs. Weasley was saying it seemed he was a very good one. Ron had told him and Hermione stories of Cursebreakers – it sounded like a very exciting life. He knew Bill didn't often make it back to England, and he hadn't been at The Burrow the year before. Giving a mental shrug, Harry thanked Mrs. Weasley for the food and headed outside. He'd meet Bill later, he supposed.

As Harry left through the kitchen door, he looked around him at the back garden. It seemed that the Weasleys were very interested in privacy, as it was surrounded on all sides by tall, yet gnarled trees and on ground level fencing and a thick hedge. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed, given that they were Wizards. The grass looked like it could use mowing and weeding, and through a break in the trees he could see the path that lead up to the Weasley's orchard. There was a small paddock up there, which he knew well from endless games of Quidditch the summer before.

Harry circled around the side of the house towards the front garden. It was much how he remembered it: the path up to the front door from the lane, with the garage that used to hold Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia as well as all of what Mr. Weasley called his "Muggle Memorabilia", the broom shed beside it and, in turn, the chicken coop next to it. Clustered around the door of the broom shed – which looked like it might have been an outhouse in a previous life – were a number of rusted cauldrons, and around the front door itself a small army of extremely muddy wellington boots. Harry set out towards the lane and started walking in what he suspected was the direction of the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

This part of Devon seemed to Harry to be what he had always imagined the English countryside to be while locked away in Little Whinging as a child. He'd been in the car as they drove through the countryside, of course, but the idyll he found himself in now was as different from suburban Surrey as could be. In Primary School they had read _The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe_ by C. S. Lewis – something that the Dursleys had not been happy about – and Harry remembered being captivated by the idea of four children not so dissimilar in age from him leaving London for the safety of The Country. As he walked along the country lane, which was barely the width of a car and bordered on each side by tall hedges threaded with honeysuckle, he remembered that first train journey to the Hogwarts. He remembered behind the tentative joy of making a new friend in Ron and the looming worry of not fitting in at Hogwarts, was the realisation that he was following in the footsteps of Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy.

Through low points in the hedges either side of the lane, and when there was any kind hill he could see what looked like endless fields. As he looked about at the countryside he felt something strange bubble up inside his chest. Harry tentatively identified that fragile, awkward feeling in his chest as _freedom_. Much of his existence was tethered to something; Privet Drive in the summers and Hogwarts for the rest of the year. Hogwarts was certainly a gilded cage of a nicer sort, and allowed Harry a much larger area to spread his wings, compared to the housing estate immediately around Privet Drive. Being able to walk through the countryside by himself was a rare experience.

As far as he could gather from overhearing the Weasleys talk, to get to Ottery St. Catchpole you turned right onto the lane, walked about ten minutes 'til you reached an odd-shaped T-junction and turned right towards the village. Sure enough, after around ten minutes of the blissful freedom of walking he reached the odd-shaped T-junction with the sign for Ottery St. Catchpole – after already walking past another oddly shaped T-junction that no one thought to mention – and followed the sign. It turned out the road the Weasleys called "the lane" was really Knightstone Road, and the road to the village Sidmouth Road. You learnt something new every day, he supposed.

Eventually he reached the village proper, though he had seen bulk of the buildings against the horizon for about ten minutes as he'd approached. As he entered the village, arrayed around a crossroads. To the north was the impressive bulk of a church, built of grey stone with the look of a miniature cathedral. The houses and shops were a miss-match of different styles, very unlike the village of Hogsmeade. Harry's only exposure to anything that wasn't an enormous castle or drab suburbia was the glimpses he'd stolen of Hogsmeade as he had taken a carriage back to the station at the end of the school year.

Harry turned left and walked away from the church and the centre of the village. The road in front of him curved away to the southwest, and had a mix of shops and houses. In the distance he could see a bigger building with a large glass frontage. As he got closer he could see it was a motorcycle shop. It seemed like they sold a mix of both normal and racing motorcycles, Royal Enfield and Kawasaki. Harry had, for the longest time, had a recurring dream of flying across the sky in a flying motorbike. It had lead to friction with the Dursleys when he had innocently mentioned it. As he stood in front of the shop and stared at the assembled machines the dream came back to him. In the dream the motorcycle had been an older model with a sidecar, which was nice because looking at the newer style of motorcycle here he didn't like them. They were all harsh angles and what looked like plastic – not the shining exposed chrome, black metal and comfy looking leather seat. He was seized by a strong desire to buy one, but knew that he wouldn't be able to get one for a few years, as the age limit for a motorcycle was seventeen. He could look at least.

Harry was reminded of Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia, that had been enchanted to fly. Could he do the same? He'd not really thought how what he'd learnt at Hogwarts could impact on the things in his life. Spending summers at the Dursleys and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery left him with no way to apply any of the things he'd learnt in his everyday world, so he'd not thought much about it. Seeing the row of motorcycles in the shop and witnessing life at the Burrow had opened his eyes, and he resolved to put more consideration into his studies.

After a while he left the village and headed back to the Burrow. He'd seen enough of the village to see an easy route for his morning jog.

**{}**

There was a man sitting in the corner of the Weasley's front garden when Harry had returned from his walk. He had the distinctive Weasley hair, but longer than the rest of his immediate family, mostly swept back from his head and gathered in a ponytail. He looked tall, reminding Harry of Ron, Percy and Mr. Weasley, but he wasn't entirely sure given that the man was sitting down on a bench. The man was smoking a pipe, which Harry found interesting in a detached sort of way. He'd not seen any wizards smoking before, either cigarettes or pipes. The man looked up when he heard the squeak of the gate opening and took the pipe out of his mouth and waved in a beckoning sort of way, so Harry trotted over.

'Who are you, then?' greeted the man before Harry could awkwardly say hello. 'You're one of Ron or Ginny's friends from school, from the size of you. I'm Bill.' He held his hand out for Harry to shake. Bill had a lazy, confidence to him that Harry envied a little, and that he suspected stemmed mostly from being the eldest child. He spoke with a sort of gruffness that all the same wasn't aggressive or intimidating but inspired you with confidence in turn.

'I'm Harry, Harry Potter. I'm Ron's friend.'

Bill sat up all at once, spluttering pipe smoke from his nose in his surprise, causing Harry to cough a little. It had a herbal fragrance to it that was unlike the smell that Harry associated with the pipe his aunt Marge smoked in the garden when she visited. Bill smiled in apology and put the pipe to one side, after using his wand to douse the bowl. 'Sorry about that, I picked the habit up in Egypt and I'm hiding it from mum, I think she'd go spare if she knew. Come on, sit down, I want to have a chat.' Harry must have had an intimidated look on his face as he sat next to him on the bench because Bill laughed and added, 'not like that! It's not bad, I promise.'

They were both quiet for moment before Harry asked, 'that doesn't smell like normal pipe tobacco. My uncle's sister smokes a pipe, but yours actually smells nice.'

Bill looked down at the pipe, which was made from what looked like it might be ivory and was carved all over with lions. 'It's from Egypt, where I work for Gringotts as a Cursebreaker. They do something different to the tobacco leaves out that way. It's a nice smell, right? It's good for keeping you focused when you're face-first with a flesh-rotting ward.'

Harry didn't really know what to say to that. There was another awkward pause while Harry stared at his feet and Bill rubbed his thumb along his pipe. 'What did you want to talk to me about?'

Bill turned his head and fixed him with a look. 'I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Ginny at school,' he asked. 'Mum said something about the Chamber of Secrets.'

Harry could feel the blood leaving his face. He'd been hoping not to have to talk about the events under the school again. Bill, from the way his expression changed, understood exactly how Harry was feeling at the prospect of re-hashing it all over again. Dumbledore's office had been bad enough.

'It was bad?' Asked Bill.

Harry nodded, looking away determinedly, 'there was a basilisk.'

Bill's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline at that. 'How big?'

Harry shrugged, still looking away, 'fifty to sixty feet. Dumbledore's phoenix took its eyes. I stabbed it through the mouth with Gryffindor's Sword. It bit me, but Fawkes cried on the wound.'

Bill let out a whistle, and was quiet for a moment before he turned at gripped Harry's shoulder in a comforting manner. 'If anyone knows something about what you went through, it's me. You did well, Harry. The most important thing is that you got yourself and my sister out of there. You were scared, right? So scared you could barely stand?' Bill could see Harry nod, jerkily, 'I've been there.'

Harry turned to stare at Bill with wide eyes. To Harry, Bill exuded such a sense of solid dependability that Harry couldn't ever imagine him being that scared. 'Y-you have?'

'Sure,' said Bill, smiling at Harry in a comforting way. 'My first run in the field cursebreaking was an exercise in terror. Things went arse over kettle fairly quick – I won't bore you with the details but it involved a swarm of flesh-eating scarab beetles and fifteen-foot golems. We were lucky to get out of there alive. To tell you the truth, I was nearly on the next portkey home, I was so rattled. It doesn't match up with taking on a sixty-foot basilisk with a _sword_ but then few things do.' Bill, his hand still on Harry's shoulder, gave it a comforting squeeze. 'I'll tell you the only thing that might help you: you didn't let the fear get to you, you made it out of there, and you saved my sister. I won't lie to you lad, something like this will stay with you forever, but when the next thing comes at you – and having heard some stories from Ron and the twins, something else probably will – you'll stand just a little easier. You won't be as scared, and that might save some people. Don't be ashamed of fear, Harry, it means you're human.'

Harry had some colour back in his cheeks now, and looked a little better. 'Erm, thanks Bill.'

Bill grinned at him. 'You're a good kid, Harry, I can tell. After what you did for Ginny, it's the least I can do.' He looked him in the eye and asked, 'how do you think she's handling it?'

'Not well.'

Bill nodded, 'Don't tell anyone, but it's the real reason I'm back in England. I could sort out the Journeyman Cursebreaker business from the regional headquarters in Egypt, but I'm worried about her.'

'Bill,' said Harry hesitantly, 'it wasn't just the Chamber… Ginny had been writing in a cursed diary all year. She had-' he paused, before continuing, 'she had Voldemort in her head, controlling her and making her do things. It's worse than I think your parents know.'

To Bill's credit, he didn't flinch when Harry uttered the Dark Lord's name. 'What do you think we should do?' he asked.

Harry was a bit surprised that Bill was asking him, after all Ginny was his sister, but after a moment came up with something. 'D'you think you could teach her some of the things you use while cursebreaking? It's all she would talk to me about last summer.' It was obvious to Harry that Bill was Ginny's favourite brother and his career as a Cursebreaker had something to do with that. Harry paused again for a moment before continuing in a rush, 'and maybe me too? I've finished all my summer homework already and it does sound exciting and after the Chamber maybe more than a little useful and-'

'Woah, woah,' said Bill, cutting him off with a chuckle. 'I think it's a good idea, and I'd be happy to show you too. As I said, it's the least I could do.' Bill put his pipe away within the folds of his robes, and stood up. 'C'mon, it's probably brunchtime soon, right? I'll have a think about how to broach the idea with Ginny.'

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CONFUSED AMERICANS**

I'm English, so I'm going to use the British spelling, punctuation and grammar. Just to let you know. If you have any questions, are confused by a turn of phrase or spelling (or even want to correct me!), you can pm me and I'll explain.

I hope you enjoyed this! I've realised writing my other fic of the Ridiculously Long Name (I've given it a nickname that I can't actually tell you because it is very rude) that perhaps I should try writing something a little shorter before I try something of a long length. I'm aiming for this to be about four chapters of a similar length. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

K. Thisp. Sunday 27th October, 2013

(edited the same day to remove some errors)


End file.
